


the impossibility of being a child

by afinch



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Torchwood
Genre: Aslan - Freeform, Canon Crossover, Family, Heartache, Heartbreak, Ianto Makes Tea, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Incest, Multiple Time Perspectives, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, The Problem of Susan, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/afinch
Summary: Susan survives, and at 80 years old, has found a way to put Aslan and Narnia behind her. But it's there, always in the shadows, and when her great-grandaughter goes missing, she calls on Jack to help her find a way. It's Jack who helped her find a way out of 1949, who gave her more than enough to hold on to, and who never stopped believing that families could be reunited.





	the impossibility of being a child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



> I tried to work in as much as you wanted; it's more of a gen focus than ship, but I threw in some references that I think you'll like ;) This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

A slow steady beep came from a wooden box near Jack's office. 

"Is nobody else bothered by that?" Gwen asked the room.

Owen barely glanced up, "Probably just another something he forgot to turn off."

"I've never seen him open that box," Gwen countered.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Owen said, but he came round and looked at the box any way. "It kind of looks like an old wardrobe, if you look at it on it's side."

Gwen tipped her head like Owen was and looked, "It _does_ look like a wardrobe!"

Before Owen could retort back, Jack bounded out of his office, beaming, "It _is_ a wardrobe! Susan's got something for me and I haven't seen her in forever!" He looked like a kid at Christmas.They looked at him puzzled, but he offered nothing. "I'll be off in the country - Bath, at the York Estate - for a while; if anyone wants to join me, we leave in ten."

Like any of them were going to stay behind and wait. Even Ianto was leaned up against the SUV calmly sipping at his travel mug as the team waited for Jack. Jack came moments later, carefully cradling the small beeping box. 

"Let's roll," he said. 

It seemed only moments later they were rolling up to an old house in the British countryside. An elderly woman, surprisingly spry, ran across the yard towards the SUVs.

"Susan?" Jack said, and his voice hitched on the name. Everyone in the SUV noticed, but none of them said anything.

Jack had barely stopped the car when he jumped out and ran to the woman.

"Jack!" Susan sounded relieved, and looked as though a small weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

The two embraced like old friends, leaving the rest of the team to watch, confused. 

"Do we know her?" Gwen asked the car.

"Never seen her," Tosh said. 

"Jack's got lots of friends," Owen offered. "He goes way back."

"He needs us," Ianto said, keeping the team on point. 

They exited to hear Susan speaking, "It's Ciana."

"How long?" Jack asked, his face tight.

"Twenty minutes before I called you."

"You've left it open?"

She nodded and Jack snapped to attention. "Tosh, upstairs, third floor, wooden wardrobe. Do not go inside. Take Owen. Gwen, talk to the family, take Ianto. I'll stay with Susan."

Tosh started unloading the SUV, but stopped, confused, "What are we looking for?"

"It's a portal," Jack said. "A little girl may have gone inside."

"To another world?" Gwen asked, looking worried.

"Yes, now go," Jack snapped. 

The team, understanding Jack's tone, snapped to action. 

Jack turned his attention back to Susan. "Ciana? Which one is she?"

Susan shook a little, then flung herself on Jack, her thin arms gripping him tightly, "Oh, Jack. Thank you for coming. I wasn't sure .."

Jack's exterior softened and he ran a thumb down her cheek, "Always, Su. Just like I promised."

* * *

Susan heard the sirens, but paid them no mind. Clothes rationing had just ended the week before, and the stores were selling out just as soon as stock came in. She'd been making nice with a boy, Ray, from the shop down the street and he'd promised to ring when stock came in - in exchange for a dinner - and Tuesday was stock day. 

She stretched out on the chair, drumming her feet on the floor. Every so often she'd glance at the grandfather clock, ticking slowly. 

More sirens now and she lazily looked out the window to see if she could see the commotion. Not without looking up, she couldn't. 

"There's been a train crash! Down at the station! It hit the platform!" the cries wafted through the cracked window, growing louder as panicked streetwalkers and housewives heard the news.

"Another one," Susan muttered. "Those poor people." There had just been the one last year, 24 dead, and now this? "Just terrible," she continued muttering.

"It's the one from Reading!" the news and cries continued to filter in the window. 

At this, Susan sat up. Wasn't Lucy visiting the Professor and Aunt Polly in Bath this week? Something about seeing Eustice and Jill before they were to start school. Surely it couldn't be the same train?

Peter would know. She picked up the phone and waited for an operator. Nothing. The lines were jammed. It must have been serious. Which meant Ray couldn't get through. 

"Might as well see what the fuss is about," Susan thought. She quickly slipped on her shoes and into her coat.

The streets were already packed. Susan had barely stepped off the sidewalk when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into Mrs Havisham's garden. Susan yelped, but one look at the man and she was literally speechless. 

Forget Ray, this man was practically a god; strong jaw, sparking eyes, amused smile …

"Hello," she said, nervously.

"Why hello," he said, his voice low and sweet. "Captain Jack Harkness. Are you Susan Pevensie by any chance?"

She weakly nodded. Then remembered she was getting to see what all the fuss was about at the train station. She pointed at all the people, "I- I- should go."

"Let me give you a ride," the charming man - military man, she noticed - said, and suddenly they'd been walking and there they were at a car. "And you looked parched," he continued, producing a flask. "Just water, go on there, let me get the door for you …"

Within minutes, she was asleep, the car travelling West, out of the City.

* * *

"Ciana?" Jack asked, taking a step back. "Which one is she?"

Susan nodded, "Right. Last time I actually saw you was … seventy-five was it? There was an Alice, but no worries, I chased her away. Still not certain Ned's forgiven me for that one. But Ciana is Jack's youngest-"

"Sara," Jack supplied, and Susan nodded.

"Sara's first. She's got Elinor as well, but she's only six months," Susan explained. "The room was locked, Jack. The room has been locked. She shouldn't have been able to get it."

Jack shrugged and put his hands in his coat, looking around the estate, "Kids will find a way. You've got a good estate here. I'm surprised it's taken this long for someone to active it, to be honest."

Susan's face clouded, "Yes, well, nevermind that. How is your team going to do what you and I couldn't, 60 years ago?"

"You and he? Gram?" A plain-faced woman, not more than 20, approached, holding a baby.

"I meant his father," Susan waved her hand, but the young woman looked doubtful. Susan didn't seem to notice.

"Grandfather," Jack corrected, quickly. He smiled at the woman. "Hello."

"Oh!" she said, now that attention was on her. She looked Jack up and down and blushed. "Hello."

"Hello," Jack said again, clearly enjoying himself. 

Susan smacked him, "Stop hitting on my granddaughter. This is Rebecca, Rose's girl."

"I don't mind …" trailed off Rebecca, but the mention of the name "Rose" and Jack had stood up a little straighter and looked a little more remorseful. 

"And who is this little one?" Jack asked, changing the conversation under Susan's withering glare. 

Rebecca shifted the baby to her other hip, "This is TJ. Or Jack the Third, but Gram started calling him TJ, and it stuck. I'm helping Uncle JJ out, Auntie Sara can't stop crying, and Auntie Jess has Elinor. What did you do sixty years ago, Gram?"

Susan sighed and eyed Jack, "It'll make things easier if we tell them. Keep the police from poking about, too. I know some of them weren't keen on me calling you first."

Jack looked around the estate, thinking hard on the question. Finally, he nodded, "That's probably best, let's do that, then."

"Beck, hun, round everyone up," Susan said, her voice clear and commanding. Rebecca didn't even question it, and headed back to the house. 

"Well," Jack said, a smirk on his face. "You sounded just like the Susan of old."

Susan wasn't having any of his flirting. "I am Susan, and I am old, and my great-grandchild is missing because you're a dumb sex-crazed buffoon."

Jack watched her stride off to the house and then shrugged again, "She's not wrong." He followed her into the house, where Rebecca had quickly gathered everyone in the dining room. Sara looked as though she'd cried out all her tears and upon finding there were none left to cry, had borrowed some from her husband and her brothers. They all looked tense. But not, Jack noted wryly, scared. They'd inherited that from their grand Matriarch. 

"Gwen, Ianto, go see if you can help the other two." Ianto was holding a silver tray of tea cups and looked as though he wanted to protest, but one look at Jack and he scowled and set the empty cups down on the table before leaving with a waiting Gwen. As they left, Gwen was whispering harshly to Ianto, "Doesn't Jack look just like the other Jack?" The door swung shut before Jack could hear Ianto's reply.

Just him and the family, now.

"My team are looking for evidence of another world," Jack said quickly. Several startled gasps filled the room. "We've been tracking this world for over 100 years. Susan helped us, about 60 years ago -"

"Mom, you what?" said Ned. He gripped the hand of his brother tightly. "This is lunacy. Are you even with the police? Mom, who is this man?"

Jack held up a hand, a genial smile on his face. "I think I'd best let Susan do the explaining. I'm going to go check on my team. Su?"

Susan nodded, a look of fierce determination on her face. "I suppose it's time I tell you my war stories," she said. "And about the Pevensie family."

* * *

Susan woke with a start. She was … in a room. In a bed. The last thing she remembered was waiting for Ray to call … and then hadn't there been shouting? She couldn't remember. She tried to sit up, but a metal shackle around her wrist and the bed frame prevented this.

"Hey!" she yelled at the door. "Someone has a lot of explaining to do!"

The door flung open and a man in a military trench-coat stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright hallway.

"I'm not scared of you," Susan said coldly. "Why did you take me? My brothers will-"

"Your brothers are dead," the man said. "Pretty sure it's just luck that you're not. Sorry about the cuffs, it's a precaution. If I take it off are you going to do something silly, like try to escape?"

"I'm not scared of you," Susan said again, her eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness level in the room. If he took the cuff off and she had the element of surprise on her side ...

As if reading her mind, he spoke, "There's three locked doors between here and the surface, and I really don't want to have to put you under again."

"Again?" she glared at him, scared, but determined not to show it. 

He shook his head, "Sorry, we're getting a bad start. I'm Captain Jack Harkness. You're Susan Pevensie. You've been to another world."

At this, Susan dropped her guard and looked actually afraid. "Pretence," she tried. "Silly schoolchildren."

"I don't think you're mad or anything," Jack said. "How old are you?"

She didn't see the harm in answering, "21. What do you mean my brothers are dead?"

"How many years have you lived?"

If she'd been the sort of person who hadn't lived more years than the age she was, she might have been thrown off by the question. But he had irritated her twice now, and she wanted answers. "I asked a question."

"They were killed in the train crash. How many years have you lived?"

"What do you mean, in the train crash? What train crash? Why -"

Jack held up a hand, "I asked a question. Fair's fair, yes? You answer mine honestly, and I'll answer yours as honestly as I can."

Susan tried to fold her arms across her chest, but failing due to the cuff, gave up for sitting back on her elbows, "Not a fair trade on my end, is it? You've drugged me more than once?"

"I-" Jack looked from her, then to the door, then back at her again. He seemed to be decided exactly what to say, which in Susan's experience with boys just meant they were trying to figure out how to lie to you. "You pack a mean right hook," Jack finally offered. 

Susan couldn't help herself and smiled, "It's to stop boys like you from taking things they've no right to."

Jack nodded, rubbing at his jaw. Susan watched him, expectantly. "Alright, it's not a fair deal on your end, but I can't tell you everything, but I will tell you everything I can," Jack said. "Deal?"

It was probably the best she was going to get. "I won't do anything silly like try to escape."

"You're a liar, I like that," Jack said, but he got out the key nevertheless and Susan sat up, rubbing her wrist out of an ingrained habit as it wasn't sore at all. 

"I don't know how many years I've lived," she said honestly. "Sometimes it feels like an entire lifetime, but then, how can that possibly be true?" She laughed a little to herself, then fell into a somber silence. "Ed and Peter? They're really dead? Lucy will be devastated."

Jack watched her silently for a moment. She struggled not to cry, and failing, refused to be ashamed of it. "You could at least offer a lady your handkerchief," she said, proudly. Jack obliged, and she dabbed at her eyes. When she had composed herself, she spoke again. "I want to talk to Lucy."

"I suppose I should tell you what happened at the train station," Jack said, softly.

* * *

The room was deadly silent. Even the infants were silent. 

"I always thought Aslan might send my brother to me, at the end," Susan said to her family. "Given our relationship, it would be fitting. But he's never called. It's never been my time. After a while, I stopped yearning for it, stopped wanting it. I kept the wardrobe as a piece of my past - of the little girl I both was and never could be - I had to fight hard for it, but we all agreed … I mean we thought … I never thought anyone besides me would be able to enter it."

"Ma," said Jack, her son, reaching to place a hand on her shoulder. "Ma, all this time? We would have-"

Susan interrupted by laughing. "Done? What could you have done? Your father, me, Jack's grandfather - we couldn't do it."

"But my _baby_ ," Sara burst out. "Grandma, I want my baby. I want my baby girl back, why hasn't she come back?"

"You said it happened in the blink of an eye," one of the twins said. "Yea," piped up the other. "Sis has been waiting … it's been hours now."

A few other family members nodded. Jack kept his hand tightly in his mother's. 

"Alright," he said. "The only thing we can do now is trust that they can get through. Makes no sense to be arguing."

"If Gram got in, she can get in again, can't you?" asked Clementine, looking nervously about the room. Behind her, Ned kept his hands on her shoulders. "I mean, can't you?" she repeated. 

Susan looked thoughtful. "Maybe. I'm not sure I know how to believe. Aslan liked children. They were malleable like that, easy to believe anything. It's why Lucy …" she trailed off, tears in her eyes. She steadied herself, "I tried, you know. Aslan wouldn't let me in, not even when I was at my most desperate."

* * *

"You have it?" Susan demanded suddenly, swinging her feet off the bed. The conversation hadn't been going well, but Susan had been determined to get her answers and refused to be placated as a _common hysterical woman_ , and Jack had obliged. "You have the wardrobe? Of course you do, you've been tracking it since the Professor and Aunt-"

She was suddenly dizzy with the thought that they were _all_ dead, and she fell back on the bed. She hadn't heard him move, but Jack was right there, holding her elbow, keeping her up. 

"We bought the estate," Jack says softly. "A few years ago, when Kirke lost his fortune. We didn't know it was the wardrobe. We knew it moved from the Ketterly house, but some lingering traces remained. Those traces showed up on the move. The rest of my team tracked them to your brothers and were headed to the train station."

"Why me?" Susan asked.

Jack didn't answer. It wasn't the sort of question that was asked in times of grieving that could have anything approaching a sustainable response.

But Susan pressed, "Why me? Why were you looking for me?"

"We figured out Eustace, Jill, and Lucy were on the train. You were the only one, and I was to stop you from reaching the train."

She turned on him, then, savagely, hitting with the learned savagery of a warrior. He took the blows, a look of deep remorse on his face. When she had worn herself out, she fell onto him, sobbing bitterly, "That was my family, that was my family, you had no right." 

"I'm so sorry," Jack said, his voice deep.

At this, Susan pushed from him and fled from the room, Jack quickly behind her.

"Susan!"

"Where is it?!" she screamed. "Where's the wardrobe?"

She entered a main room, the wardrobe front and center, wires attached to it and three others standing around, moving instantly around it to prevent her.

"Let her in," Jack called. "Let her in; if it takes her, she deserves to go."

They parted and Susan flung herself desperately at the door, taking two tries to get the door open. It was bare inside, the back clearly visible, but Susan stumbled towards it, banging her fists on the wood, over and over again, her cries unintelligible as a new wave of sobs overtook her. "Aslan," she whimpered. "Aslan, let me in. Let me in, let me in, let me in, let me in, let me in, let me in …." over and over again, under her words were nothing more than a tired sigh and her fists too weak to raise.

The door to the wardrobe opened, and Jack stood there, holding a tray of tea and biscuits. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked. Susan nodded, and Jack moved into the cupboard, it just big enough to hold the both of them and the tray. 

"We'd like you to help us," Jack continued. He handed Susan a cup of tea. "Help us try to get in. We just want to understand it - what it all means. If anyone else is in danger."

Susan shook her head, "No. I won't. I can't." She drummed her fingers on the back panel of the wardrobe. "If He wanted to take me, He would have made sure I was at the train station. I never … we were grown-up, once, an entire lifetime behind this backing. Then we were just children again and fifteen years of our lives had vanished into thin air. I can't - it was never real." Her jaw clenched and her knuckles turned white against the silver teacup. 

Jack said nothing. 

"And then-" Susan continued, her voice rising in anger, "when we were back, when I was the last to see Him, He said I had been listening to fears again, as if He had any idea what it was like to come back to being a child again and try to navigate life around a war. It's impossible to be a child in a war, even if you're not a soldier and the only thing on your soil is bombs." 

She hiccoughed and sniffled, but took a sip of tea to steady herself and continued, "Then He said I'd never be back. And He sent us back to the war and the impossibility of being a child again. There were only two choices; grow up and face reality or continue to dream of a place that couldn't have possibly been real. I chose the former; my siblings all chose the latter."

Jack said nothing, but his own knuckles were as white as hers, against his cup. 

Eventually he broke the silence. "We have the estate. We can put a house up, put the wardrobe back, watch you, watch it. See if anything happens. I don't know why you lived, Susan, but you did. You escaped and you get your life. It wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault." His voice shifted upward on the last few words, and Susan noticed. 

"No," she said. "I don't suppose it was either of ours, was it?"

She placed her teacup down and leaned her head against the wooden side. "You know, Lucy found it first. During a game of hide and seek. It was so quiet, on the estate. No sirens. No warnings. No screaming. Just so still. We could actual be the children we were, and Lucy, who must have wanted more than all of us to be somewhere safe, pushed herself through a stack of coats and into …"

A low smile spread across her face and the slightest breeze wafted through the wardrobe. From outside came a few startled shouts.

"Where?" Jack asked, setting his cup next to hers, his chest heaving with the effort of staying perfectly still and trying to keep whatever was happening, happening.

The answer came on another gentle breeze, in a soft, gentle whisper, as one does when they are remembering something with the utmost fondness.

"Narnia."

* * *

The family sat at the table, silent. 

Clementine broke the silence, "Gram, maybe I could go-"

"NO!" Several people shouted at once.

She turned up to look at Ned, "Dad, I could g-"

"NO!" Several shouted again. 

"Nobody is going," Susan said, firmly. "Nobody."

"We're just supposed to sit here?" asked one of the twins. "I can't watch my sister go through this, I'll-"

"There's four of you," Susan said, sharply. "I only ever had three to not make four. There were four of us, it was our destiny. Two Daughters of Eve, two Sons of Adam. Then it took my siblings and I vowed to never give Him a chance to set things right. Not in my family, he wouldn't."

"But Dad wanted a girl," one of the twins said. "And there's four of us. Do you think-"

Sara, silent, burst out again, "NO! There are only two of them! They are my daughters, not Eve's! I'll go to the wardrobe myself and demand her back."

"It won't let you in," came Jack's voice from the doorway. The family looked up, shocked. Susan stood, trembling. It was news she had heard before. She knew what Jack was to say to her family, and she knew there was no comfort that could come. "My team and I have confirmed it's active, but all we get is solid wood back there. I'm sorry. There's nothing more we can do." He looked it too, his face ashen and drawn. His hands shook, just a little, and Susan reached out to him and gripped his hand, comforting him. He tried to pull away, but she held tight, and he relented, pulling her hand to his chest.

Sara screamed then, a long haunted scream that not even her husband could console her from. She tried for words, but all that came out was garbled gibberish. In anguish, she beat her fists on the table, still screaming with hurt and rage.

"I'm so sorry," Jack said, tears in his eyes. "I am so, so sorry."

"Ciana," Sara sobbed. "Ciana, Ciana, Ciana."

And in that moment, without exactly knowing why, but only knowing that she was extremely angry at Aslan for tearing her family apart again, Susan knew what had to happen. One needed to believe, to really believe. And it was quite possible to believe in something you were very angry at. She wasn't clouded by grief, as she had been when she was a child. This was true belief, in His powers and capabilities, in His world and His magic and His ability to call any of them to Him. She let go of Jack's hand and moved quickly - quicker than she had in years - for the stairs.

"Susan!" Jack called, just behind her, his coat fluttering like a cape.

"Don't you stop me, Captain Jack Harkness," Susan said, her hips keeping her from taking the stairs as quickly as she would have liked. He caught up to her quickly enough, steadied her by the elbow. She turned to him, her eyes youthful and sparkling for the first time in a very long time, "I think it's time I do something silly."

* * *

"So no marriage in Narnia?" Jack asked, his eyes twinkling. The Estate was coming along nicely - Jack had pulled money out of somewhere for her and then had stubbornly insisted on staying to keep an eye on her - but it had all been by her design, down to the room on the right side of the third floor to house the wardrobe in. 

"There was an evil prince, once," Susan said, frowning. "But he was a liar, as most men are."

"I'm a liar too," Jack teased.

Susan smiled, "Yes, I suppose you are, Mr. Peter York."

He mocked bowed to her, and she laughed, before catching herself and biting her lip.

"You are allowed to be happy," he said.

She shook her head, "No, it's just … there was an evil prince, once, but mostly it was Peter and I, one pair of daughters and sons. It was like Aslan was blessing us, in a way, by providing us with no other option."

He raised a brow at her, " _That's_ why I'm Peter?"

Susan was suddenly all business. "Don't be silly, it wasn't like that at all. You're Peter because it was on the identity I found and you stole. Now stop distracting me, honestly, you're as bad as …"

But who Jack was as bad as was never explicitly stated. 

When their first child was born, Susan slyly named him Jack, and she was over the moon. But all too often, Jack would give the baby his bottle, and come to find Susan on the third floor, sitting in the middle of the coats, sobbing quietly. 

"How can you want to go back now?" he would ask, rocking her gently. 

"Would you?" she'd ask. "If you could go back, would you?"

And neither would say anything until Susan was ready to leave.

So the years passed, and with them came another child, a pale, small boy Susan didn't hesitate to call Edward, but Jack insisted on calling him Ned, and the name stuck. Time rolled steadily forward until the birth of the daughter that Jack quietly named Rose.

"No more," Susan said, her face hard. "I won't give Him four. No more, Jack."

"I should go," Jack said, instead of "I agree," or "No more," or even "Hello," which would make Susan's knees tremble every time. 

"I'm destined to love and lose travelers," Susan mused, as the baby suckled. "How will you keep an eye on the wardrobe?" Even in the middle of heartache, she could be pragmatic and logical. Their goal was always the wardrobe, even with a family. There was no point in fussing over Jack's decision. She was surprised it had taken this long. Aslan wasn't going to let her in, that was evident, now.

He disappeared for a moment to his shed, then reappeared with a replica of the wardrobe. "I took some from the top and side. If it works the way our last tracking did, it will beep if there's an open connection."

"And you'll come?" Susan said, looking suddenly scared and nothing like the woman he had come to love. She looked small and afraid, almost like a child facing yet another night of war in her backyard.

"Always," Jack said. "I will always come for you, Su."

"Only to see if it works," Susan teased, but her voice wasn't nearly as confident as she wanted to portray. She had now lived a Narnian lifetime with Jack, and these were 15 years she could easily hold and letting go of them was not as easy as it was to not believe in Narnia. "Because if I can find my family, maybe you can find yours, right? That's what this has all been about?"

Jack stroked her face and ran a thumb down her cheek, "I mean it. Always. Because if you can get a happy ending, you deserve a happy ending."

"Happy endings are only in fairy tales," Susan sniffed. 

But the baby cooed and placed her wet hand on Jack's thumb and squeezed it tight.

* * *

Tosh watched the readings on the screen. They were steady. No change since they had arrived. Jack was trying to tell them this was a good thing, but Tosh had her doubts. There may have been an open connection, but they couldn't get through; they couldn't even _find_ it. Even Owen was frustrated. 

"And he just kicked you out?"

"I had just made tea," Ianto said, looking sullen. "It's probably cold by now. Pity, they could have used it."

Gwen shot a withering look at Owen, "I'm sure Jack has his reasons, we just have to-"

Owen flopped his hand along as Gwen spoke, "-trust him, yes, I know. But tracking a stupid wooden wardrobe isn't exactly the Rift, is it?"

"It's still important," Tosh protested. "A portal to another world that we can't see or otherwise access, but we know it's there? That's scarier than the Rift. At least we know where it is and what to watch for."

Gwen was looking at the wardrobe thoughtfully. "Jack said it had been opened last in 1949? What if-"

"Someone's coming!" Owen hissed, stopping Gwen's thought. 

"Just me," Jack said, striding into the room. "And Su." She was just behind him, looking proud and determined. Tosh, watch the signals carefully. Su, if you're not back in ten seconds, I'm coming after you."

Gwen stood in front of the wardrobe, "You're not letting go in. Jack, you can't be serious!"

"Let her in," Jack said firmly. "She deserves to go."

Gwen shook her head, "Jack, we don't know what's in there, or what will happen-" She trailed off as Owen took her by the arm and pulled her aside. She shook her head and buried it in Owen's shoulder, "I can't watch this."

Owen put his arm protectively around her and glared at Jack, "Are you sure about this?"

Jack shook his head, "I'm not. She is."

Susan nodded and took a deep breath before stepping into the wardrobe.

"No final words?" Jack called. He was attempting to keep his voice light, but it wavered.

But there was only silence.

"Jack, it's lighting up, spiking off the charts!" Tosh yelled.

"One, Two, Three," Jack started, his voice steady. 

"The levels are falling again," Tosh said, quickly. "Now they're back to where they were. No, they're slightly higher."

"Seven, Eight, Nine, Susan!" Jack screamed. "Susan! Susan, no, you can't, I won't let you!"

He ran for the wardrobe, pushing coats left and right. Behind him, Tosh was yelling again, Owen and Gwen joining in. His hands brushed against coats and then leaves and then-

Susan was there, looking as she had in 1949, more beautiful than Jack had ever seen her. Her hair was long, nearly to the ground, and black and sleek. Her dress was green and flowing, and a small crown sat on her head. She was pressing something into his arms, a small bundle.

"Burn it," she hissed. "The wardrobe. Now go, tell my family Aslan won't-"

Something was jerking Jack back by his coat, tugging him through the coats and out into the third floor room where his team looked shocked. Ianto still held his coat, as though Jack might do something stupid and run back.

"They're gone," Tosh said softly. "The levels. It's all completely disappeared." 

Gwen had taken the bundle from Jack, a small sleeping child.

"Ciana?" she asked, and the girl stirred slightly.

"Fell 'sleep," the little girl murmured. "Comfy coats."

"Take her downstairs," Jack gasped, kneeling on the ground in front of the wardrobe. "Tosh, Owen. Burn this. Every scrap. Nothing left. Not even ash." He reached for Ianto, who flinched, but Jack only embraced him, tightly. "Go finish the tea," he murmured, kissing Ianto on the cheek. "And thank you."

He stood, adjusted his coat, and stared proudly at his team, tears glistening on his cheeks. 

He followed the sounds of excited exclamations (and a little girl protesting "Mommy, STOP KISSING ME"), but turned towards the front parlor, running his fingers along the frames on the mantle until he found the one he was looking for. 

Susan's wedding photo, her and Peter York looking like the luckiest people in the world. Not so lucky. Just two lost souls who managed to hold on to Earth a little bit longer, because they had each other. He flipped it over and tore the backing off the frame.

"Where is she?" a small voice asked. It was Rose herself, looking like an older-younger Susan, her dark hair falling in ringlets down her back. Jack had last seen her in 1975, when she was just a child, no older than the girl in the picture he pulled from behind the wedding photo and slid into the front of the frame. She'd had a life, this Rose, and maybe that would be enough for him. It had never been enough for Susan. Not since the day she realized what she had lost, and never stopped yearning to go back. 

Jack replaced the frame on the mantle, and the two of them looked longingly at the picture of four children, waving and laughing at the camera.

"She went home," Jack said, smiling softly, as though remembering a long-forgotten memory. "She finally went home."

**Author's Note:**

> Her family breakdown: 
> 
> Jack, as Peter York, married Susan.  
> They had three children, Jack, Ned, and Rose.  
> Jack had four children, JJ, the twins, and the youngest was Sara  
> Ned had at least one child, Clementine  
> Rose had just one girl, Rebecca  
> JJ (Jack Junior) has at least one child, TJ (Jack III)  
> Sara has two daughters, Ciana, and baby Elinor


End file.
